


earned reprieve

by LadyPrince



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Demons, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-12 16:43:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18014567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyPrince/pseuds/LadyPrince
Summary: Demons have been a problem for a while in Japan, a problem that has just been dismissed as people being paranoid or far too superstitious for their own good, going beyond something understandable. It isn't until a representative of a political party is openly attacked by one that the Japanese government comes to finally acknowledge that demons are real and that its people have been victims of attacks similar to ones on the political party representative.In an odd sense, Shiro feels vindicated - he has always believed in demons, always knew they existed ever since the 'growth' of his new arm - yet nervous at the same time. His neighbours are still going to get attacked by demons, and he needs to act.Which is why he turns to a business calledDevil May Cryfor help.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a _Devil May Cry_ AU that will hopefully only be two or three chapters, and it will also hopefully be **short**. If you don't know anything about _Devil May Cry,_ that's okay. I've tried to write this in a way that won't require much knowledge of the series in the first place. The only thing you need to know is that I am very excited for _Devil May Cry 5_ and _Devil May Cry 3_ is my most favourite thing in the entire world.
> 
> I don't know when I'll be able to update because I am busy with work and university, and I have a test coming up soon. I've been wanting to write this for a while ever since I decided to let myself, proper, get into _Voltron: Legendary Defender_. Sorry for the long note, but thank you.

Demons aren’t real, or they aren’t supposed to be anyway. He believes in them, personally, though Shiro will never say that the reason as to why is because of his new arm - he doesn’t need people shunning him for it – and he will never even admit to others his belief in so-called “nonsense”. It stops being nonsense, he thinks a bit too smugly, when someone in the Japanese Communist Party ends up being attacked by a creature no one else can even try to explain.

It isn’t something to necessarily be happy about but after months of hearing people in his neighborhood talk with fear about how they keep getting attacked by something, Shiro can’t help but feel a bit smug… and maybe a bit relieved as he listens to the news on his small television as he makes some plain soup, hearing talks from one of the reps about how they will try and protect everyone from this new threat.

He doesn’t think they can and even with the ‘growth’ of his new arm, Shiro doesn’t know if he can either. But that doesn’t mean he has been sitting idle by, either. In some of the stores that often sell ‘merchandise’ on the supernatural, such as youkai, often including cute little toys to try and make-cutesy the monsters and demons and what have you, there will always be someone who believes genuinely in such supernatural things.

Unlike Shiro, however, those peoples’ interests are similar to those who collect bugs or those who talk about the stars up in the deep, blue sky. It makes for good eavesdropping while he is looking through books on myths and folklore, and it is because of those enthusiastic people that Shiro has learned the existence of something… almost odd.

In Italy, a business has opened up – no one knows how or why, and looking through the international news online has helped solidify this as real – called _Devil May Cry._ There isn’t a lot known about the owner, other than he is someone who is conflictingly described as being “short, hot-headed, with a scar on his face and black haired” or as “inhumanly tall [two hundred and fifty centimetres], with clear skin and snow-white hair”. The only thing that has stayed consistent has been his black tank top, flowing red-coat, fingerless leather gloves, leather pants and knee-high boots.

Reading up on the gossip on _Devil May Cry_ has been… enlightening, to say the least. People online are extremely vicious on supernatural forums [which are primarily English, meaning he has to go and kiss his grandmother’s feet later for forcing him to learn English and master it], calling the entire buzz around _Devil May Cry_ as damaging to their reputation, while others have said that they have met the owner and that he is far less than what they have expected… until he kills a demon right next to him with a gun he never reloads.

There are some terrible, terrible Photobucket uploads people have made of their attempts to take pictures of the owner at work, most of them not showing much about him other than him mid-action, and the only thing they do is make people doubt each other over whether or not the photo is real.

He finishes cooking his soup soon enough and turns the television off, not wanting to hear further news about crimes, or what the government has done lately, or a cute, charitable thing that someone has done. His thoughts are flooded with the confirmation of demons, finally, and with the persistent nagging that he has _no clue_ on how to even get a hold of _Devil May Cry._

His online searching isn’t the best, mostly because he does it late at night, huddled over his bulky computer with squinting, sleepy eyes that are burning up from the bright light, and the fruits of his labour are mostly him reading arguments that are kind of hilarious over the existence of the owner.

It is the little things keeping him sane while he tries to figure out how to help the people in Kyoto city, trying to have more than prayers and hope that people will stay safe, and he has to keep at trying to figure out what _Devil May Cry_ is. It is the only lead he has, the only thing that even feels concrete in comparison to just short of _fight the demons yourself,_ and he can’t let go just yet.

He almost loses his appetite, but thankfully the smell of food is enough to remind him that he hasn’t eaten for a few hours and that his stomach really does need the sustenance. He takes his bowl near his computer, feeling a bit silly for eating at the screen, but he just wants to quickly check-up and see if he can quickly gleam anything for a few minutes before he goes to bed early tonight.

It is when Shiro is halfway through his soup and that he has spent at least a few minutes surfing that something catches his interest.

On someone’s hobbyist blog, centred around religion and myths, they have posted up information on how to contact _Devil May Cry._

_‘Came back from my trip to Italy, where I clearly had to visit DMC! The owner let me take some pictures of the exterior and interior of the place, but he wasn’t around for me to take pictures of him. >.<  
_

_‘I was able to get the number of the place though, and I told him to consider making a website before I left. I don’t know if he took to heart what I had to say, but here’s DMC's number… oh, and also, here’s the weirdest part before I share the number with you…_

_‘He said that no matter what country you’re in, you can always call him without any issues or phone bills. I don't know if I believed him, but then again I'm from America and he's in Italy [btw, he dealt with my crappy Italian the entire time! It was good practice, but I think I annoyed him a few times] and maybe he said that for my sake? Anyway, I bet you guys are super excited, but don’t spam him ok! Here’s the number (finally!)’_

The digits stare back at him tauntingly, as if a reminder of what he has been searching for is right before him, and Shiro stares and stares until he is launching away from his desk. He grabs at a notepad first, quickly jots the number down, and nearly spills the remainder of his soup as he bolts to his landline and punches the numbers in.

It rings once. Twice. His heart grows tight. What time is it in Italy? What if he has called at a bad time? Wait.

Does he even know-

He hears a click, then a gruff voice saying, _“pronto,”_ and Shiro is tongue-tied. _“Ciao?”_ the voice tries, then, _“lei parli italiano?”_

“Do – do you speak Japanese?” Shiro asks finally, his voice a pathetic stutter, and the person on the other end shifts around. He doesn’t know how to apologize in Italian and embarrassment builds when he realizes how rude he is being – calling someone who might not even know his language to try and ask for-

 _“Yeah, I do.”_ the voice says, their Japanese heavily accented but still understandable, and Shiro blinks in shock. _“Didn’t expect to get a call from Japan,”_ he says, his voice distant as if he is speaking to himself, before his voice becomes closer as he continues speaking, _“this is Devil May Cry from Italy speaking. If you need me to kill demons,”_ yes! That is exactly what he needs! _“then I’m the man for the job.”_

Shiro swallows, his tongue feeling dry and his throat like sandpaper as he says, “I don’t know if you know, but Japan’s formally accepted the existence of demons.” the man on the other end hums encouragingly. Almost disinterested, actually. Shiro tries not to let that get to him.

“I don’t want you to kill every demon in Japan, I just – I need help in Kyoto.” he clears his throat, trying to get himself focused and not lose his train of thought while he is [metaphorically] before the demon-killer, “I live near the Yasaka Shrine on Shijo street. My neighbours have been telling me, recently, that when they’re visiting the shrines around Yasaka Shrine, and Yasaka Shrine itself, they’ve been getting attacked by a ‘monster’.

“Do you think you can deal with the demons there? I know I’m asking a lot, for you to come to Japan and all but, I have the money,” he thinks that he might have to give this person his entire savings to pay for something like this, “and we really need help.”

There is some quiet on the other end of the phone. A long moment of consideration… then he hears something like the person is standing up, flicking through something, then he gets a hum to let him know the person is still there. _“I’ll be there by tomorrow. Can I get your address?”_

“Oh – yes, sure. Can… can I get your name first?”

_“Keith.”_

Isn’t that an American name? “You can call me Shiro,” he introduces, far too late, and if his grandparents are to ever hear about this they will definitely chew him out for his manners, “and my address is…” he lists it off after Keith has told him he has somewhere to write it down with, and Shiro exhales heavily. “Will you really be here by tomorrow?”

_“Six AM your time. Hope you don’t like your beauty sleep.”_

He does, actually. “That’s… very early.”

 _“Makes it harder for people to see me at work. I’ll see you tomorrow, Shiro.”_ then he hangs up before Shiro can say anything else, leaving him to just listen to the long, droning beeps before he puts his phone down finally. If he is coming in tomorrow at six in the morning, Shiro has to rush off and go to sleep right now if he wants to be aware of what is going on the next day.

He exhales heavily, a hand running through his hair. Has he made the right choice in this? Is this Keith person even really trustworthy?

Well, tomorrow is coming and he has all of tomorrow morning to figure out whether or not this Keith person is the real-deal, or if he is being set-up for something very, very terrible. What can a man in Italy do to him in Japan if this Keith person isn’t the real deal? Who knows. He doesn’t want to think about all of the terrible, negative consequences of what he has done, so he instead just grabs the dishes, cleans them, sets the soup aside for tomorrow, and then goes to bed early.

Here is to hoping that this isn’t all just some sort of hopeless endeavour.


	2. Chapter 2

He wakes up an hour early, which is terrible because that means he has barely gotten any sleep thanks to the repeated wake ups throughout the night. Unconsciousness has constantly ran away from him that entire night, leaving Shiro a mess of tears and sobs as nightmares and anxieties tear themselves up inside of him. He rubs at his eyes, then places his clawed hand on his chest, and breathes out heavily.

His eyes fall on his supposedly-prosthetic arm and stares at it, taking in its extremely dim glow, and he has to bite his lip to stop the onslaught of nervous laughter that wants to spill free. He curls his claws into a tight fist, watches as blue swirls in and around his arm, pulsing with some sort of loose energy, and then exhales at the exact same time that he unfurls his fist. He gets up from his bed, grabs a long-sleeved tee, then proceeds to wrap his hand up until the red and blue are hidden away underneath white bandages.

The feeling of the bandages are dim and barely there, almost as if the arm has numbed it out, and Shiro tries not to think about it as he puts his tee on then gets ready for the rest of the day. He just reheats the soup from last night instead of making some breakfast for himself and then proceeds to sip on green tea for a few minutes, trying to soothe his busy and rushing mind, and he sighs when he realizes his tea is only halfway done but too cold to drink from anymore.

He places the cup on the kitchen counter with a dull thud and he looks up at the clock, his eyes burning up with exhaustion as he tries to figure out where the hands are, then groans as it hits him that he has to wait twenty more minutes before six AM. Is it even that possible for someone to arrive so quickly? He needs to go check up on how long the flight takes from Italy to Japan later, because the itchiness in his skin is beginning to tell him that he has made a mistake doing this.

Keith getting here by six AM when Shiro has called him at nine PM is plausible, but then… are there even any night flights from Italy to Japan? At this point he is just guessing, so he slinks away from the kitchen and over to the bookshelf in the living room to grab that puzzle book his father has bought him two birthdays ago. He hasn’t touched it since then, but working on it with a very cheap mechanical pencil is soothing his frantic thoughts and that is all Shiro cares about now.

It seems that he has another reason to go back to his family and kiss their feet in thanks for giving him something to slow down with. Hell, he hasn’t even called them to ask if they are okay ever since that demon announcement – he will make sure to do that later today, when everything is done and said.

He is almost done with his fifth puzzle when he hears hard knocks on his door, causing Shiro to jolt and stand up, dropping his book and nearly kicking the tiny coffee table in front of the sofa, before he is tripping on his own two feet to answer the door. He grabs at the handle, his body trembles, and when he unlocks his door and pulls it open... he doesn’t know whether or not to feel overwhelmed or underwhelmed.

The person before him is handsome… and _short._ Silky looking, flowing black hair greets him, alongside a face with a scar extending from the bottom of his right cheek to the bottom of his eye. He wears an outfit matching the exact description of the attire of the _Devil May Cry_ owner, and Shiro blinks at him owlishly. Keith stares back up at him, hand on his hips, fingers spreading out, and Shiro takes him in only once before his eyes hone in on the glinting metal on his back.

Apparently, no one has decided to include the fact that the owner of _Devil May Cry_ hauls around a _huge sword._ It looks like a custom-made broadsword almost – the hilt has an open-mouthed skull at the top, almost as if it is trying to ‘eat’ the hilt, and the cross-guards are like wings curling inwards. There is an inscription on the sword that Shiro can’t read, and the metal itself is extremely… clean.

It doesn’t look as if it has ever been used, which Shiro doubts. Or, well, he hopefully doubts. “You’re Shiro, right?” Keith says, finally interrupting his long inspection of the man, and when he looks down he can see the amused, smug smirk on his face. Shiro feels his face burning with embarrassment. “I’m Keith, _Devil May Cry._ Nice neighborhood.”

“Thank you.” Shiro says meekly. “Do you want to come in?” he steps aside and gestures vaguely to his house, which is small and modest just how he likes it, and Keith peers in before nodding. “I’ll make you some tea.”

“Sure, thanks.” Keith says while he toes his boots off, thankfully without being prompted, and Shiro watches him walk around his living room with curious eyes before he gets to making tea once more. “You ever run into the demons you want me to kill?” Keith calls out to him while he sets the kettle to boil and Shiro almost spills the water all over himself from the question.

It will take some time to boil, so he can come and sit with Keith while he waits. “Not… personally.” he says after a good bit of stalling, his hands wiping at his trousers, and he doesn’t miss the way Keith’s mismatched violet-white eyes zero in on his bandaged hand. Whereas everyone else seems confused and curious, his eyes are burning with _acknowledgement_ that makes Shiro want to shrink away and be eaten by his sofa. “I only know what my neighbors have told me, which is that the thing would attack them and scare them, but then run off.”

Keith, who has been walking around his living room the entire time, tapping his knuckles against the wall and checking for something, finally comes down to sit on the armchair next to the sofa after he unsheathes his broadsword and lets it rest against the chair’s side. He settles his left leg atop his right and leans back, looking like he owns Shiro’s house instead of him just being a guest, and he wonders how it is that Keith is able to make him feel like a stranger at his own home.

“Do you have amulets or something around your home? Those bags to protect yourself?” he asks suddenly, making a gesture like he is putting a teabag in a cup with his hands, and he furrows his brow at the question.

Shiro pauses. “Are you talking about omamori?” he asks, and Keith stops gesturing to look at him, as though trying to remember something, then he nods. “Yes I do, actually. I bought one for work.”

“Katsumori, right?” Keith says a bit unsurely, as if worried he will get the word wrong, which makes a smile come onto Shiro’s face. That seems to make the other man relax a tiny bit.

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

He shifts around, crosses his legs properly finally, then straightens up, “you should get a yakuyoke.” he seems more confident now and Shiro tilts his head, opens his mouth, and Keith answers the question he doesn’t get to ask, “I used to be in Japan years ago; I think the omamori’s spiritual powers were stronger then, but that’s what humans would use to try and protect themselves for a little bit from demons.”

Oh holy shit. “Really?” is what Shiro says instead, not wanting to appear shocked at the realization that Keith is older than he looks, and he looks like he is barely university age - that is, of course, if he is being honest.

“Wait. Why would I need protection?”

“Don’t you want to come to the shrines with me?” is what Keith asks, absent-minded and bored as he fiddles with his gloves, “that’s what they always do. Don’t ever believe me enough to actually kill demons, until they’re there watching and about to start crying.” he ends up having to call that last bit out because Shiro has left to get them tea, coming back with two petite cups that he has saved only for guests or special occasions [because mother said so], and Keith takes his cup daintily.

Shiro hums thoughtfully for a while. “Right.” he says, then rubs at his chest with his bandaged hand before he says, “sure, right. I’ll – I’ll come with. I don’t think anywhere is open to buy omamori right now, though.” if he remembers correctly, the spots that sell omamori should be open by eight AM which is… in an hour and thirty two minutes.

“Bring your katsumori one then. That’ll do.” Keith doesn’t make any motions to stand up though; instead, he just blows on his tea a few times and Shiro _swears_ he sees cold clouds from his breath. Then, he watches as Keith just drinks the tea down in one go – as if he drinking alcohol – and Shiro gives him an absolutely bewildered look.

He extremely gently places the empty cup on the coffee table, leaving Shiro to look at his own tea where steam is still billowing out, and he opens and closes his mouth uselessly. “How about we leave right now?” Shiro says as he puts his tea down as well and Keith shrugs, though he does look like he is trying not to laugh at him.

It’s nice. The struggle to not smile, he means – it looks nice on him. It is way better than the aloof expression on his face, and Shiro makes sure not to stare for too long. “I should get changed –”

“Don’t bother,” Keith interrupts, “I think I know what your demon problem is, and it’s not gonna take long. Just bring your omamori with you, and come with me.” he stands up and grabs at his sword, lifting it up like it isn’t even that heavy, and Shiro eyes him wearily as he sheathes the broadsword back onto his back. The metal glints at him while it sinks into its sheathe, as though taunting him with its cleanness, and Shiro sighs.

At the very least he puts some socks on before he grabs at his omamori, slipping it into his pant’s pocket, and he slips out of his room to see Keith already at the door, hand resting on the handle, and his eyes staring up at the ceiling. He furrows his brow, pads in closer, and then yells in surprise when Keith just pulls out a silvery handgun and shoots up at something in the ceiling.

“What are you-” his words die out on his tongue as blood splatters down on Keith’s face, getting into his hair, and bits of _something_ fall down from the ceiling and land around his feet. Within moments, those pieces of flesh [oh god, _flesh_ ] are bubbling and melting into the floor, then there is absolutely nothing there, as if Keith hasn’t just shot something living in his household.

He turns to look at Shiro with the blood splatter on his face, dripping down his hair, and he blinks at him only a few times before the fluid is hissing and evaporating. Shiro looks at him with wide, unsure eyes, his mouth still gaping open, and Keith takes a few steps forward to snap his jaw shut with an audible click of teeth. “We should probably hurry up.” Keith says casually, as if he _literally did not shoot something in his house right now,_ “I think the protective enchantments of your omamori are fading away.”

“Is that why that thing was able to get into my house?” Shiro squawks out.

Keith rolls his shoulders, dusts off imaginary dirt from his pants, then backs away to let Shiro have some space to breathe. “Yeah.” Keith says. “These things amplify nightmares and visit repeatedly, until stress kills you. These guys are the reason why some people with chronic nightmares die in their sleep.”

“That is not the most comforting thing to say to someone,” Shiro chastises, unable to stop himself from saying it, and Keith looks at him bemused, “you’d be a terrible doctor. You have absolutely _no_ bedside manners.”

Silence hangs over them both. Shiro stares. Keith stares back. The silence drags on, heavy like a sheet, and Shiro feels his face burning hot with embarrassment. Then, Keith’s face contorts as he lets out a snort, a chuckle, then actually lets out something like nervous and bewildered laughter at Shiro. “I’ll make sure to never become a doctor, then, Shiro.” he says with a snicker, looking more confused than amused. “Maybe I’ll become a chef instead and feed people pieces of demon meat.”

His expression falls. “Uh… I don’t want to eat demons. Something tells me they won’t taste good.”

“Trust me,” Keith says as he opens the door when Shiro finally puts some shoes on, “they taste disgusting. I should know, I once ate one by accident when I took on my demon form –”

“You’re a demon?” Shiro interrupts.

“Half-demon. Mom fell in love with a man, and gave birth to me.” his voice sounds pinched when he says that, as if he is lying about or covering something up, and Shiro doesn’t push. He doesn’t know Keith that well, and he doesn’t need to drag the skeletons out of his closet and lay them bare before them both.

Instead, he grabs at his jacket hanging next to the door and puts it on – it isn’t that bad outside, but there is still a slight chill, and he rather be warm and scared than cold and scared.

“You ready to go?”

 _‘Not really.’_ “Yeah, let’s help my neighbors. And… Keith?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you.” he says softly, almost inaudible, and he wonders if he will even be heard by him.

His worry seems to be unfounded, however, as Keith pauses and turns his head to look at him over his shoulder. “For?”

Shiro exhales. “For coming to help us out.”

“Humans don’t deserve to be hunted down by demons,” Keith says, “it’s what my mom would’ve wanted. Let’s go – think your neighbors are gonna wake up soon and I don’t want to explain myself to anyone again.”

“Okay, okay. I’m coming. Let me lead the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omamori are the little bagged talisman/amulets that Japanese people carry with them as a means of protection, or a means of good fortune/luck. Years ago, they used to be used as a means to fight off against "demons" and to protect people from evil, but over time they began to be made in several different types to bless modern-day people. Such blessings come in: work, money, and even such things as a healthy pregnancy. It is said that if you open an omamori, you'll lose all of its protections current and future.
> 
> The two omamoris I mention here are katsumori and yakuyoke. Katsumori, or Success Amulets, is the guarantee that the user will get a single-goal if they channel all of their energy into it. A yakuyoke, or Ward Away Evil Amulet/Protection Against Evil, is a popular counterpart to the Success Amulet because it wards away potential ills from your person [such as "evil spirits, natural disasters or other general events"]. Shiro only has a katsumori because he didn't think he'd need a yakuyoke until his accident, which will be vague and not described because... I'm stupid and didn't think of a specific accident. Keith specifically wants him to get a yakuyoke because the spiritual powers in a yakuyoke will protect him for longer against demons than his katsumori.
> 
> I'm explaining all this because... because.
> 
> [This is the one I used to read about the omamori,](https://www.tokyoweekender.com/2015/05/japanese-lucky-charms-the-guide-to-omamori/) and [here is one I used as a sort of secondary reference](https://www.tokyocreative.com/articles/19386-feel-the-fortune-omamori) just to be sure.


	3. Chapter 3

Keith, though he doesn’t intend to [he hopes at least], is an intimidating presence to be next to. There are more weapons hidden underneath his cape, mostly daggers and knives of different makes and runes that Shiro has gotten a glimpse of by pure accident. His guns are tucked behind him in his belt, and even though he is shorter than Shiro he walks with a confidence that makes Keith seem fifty-feet tall.

It is imposing to be standing next to be the demon hunter and know that they are both going to go off to fight demons, demons that are very much real, and Shiro is going to witness their extermination in Yasaka Shrine firsthand. The sun is burning brightly, yet the sky is still very chilly this early morning and Shiro is glad that his jacket gives him the smallest amount of protection against the cold. “Aren’t you feeling… cold?” Shiro asks after a few minutes of walking when he takes in how Keith, despite his cape, is wearing very little to keep himself warm. He gets a shake of the head from the demon hunter, followed with a shrug. That’s good enough as an answer.

Instead, he asks, “is it going to be difficult to kill the demons?” and Keith stops for a moment to look at him with a bit of surprise, as if he hasn’t been expecting Shiro to ask him anything, and he wonders if the demon hunter is used to absolute silence when being accompanied by his clients. “It’s just – I want to know if it’s possible for normal humans to kill them, you know. I can’t keep calling on you to come help me, it might inconvenience you.” _and I don’t have that much money._

Keith rubs the back of his head, ruffling his hair when he scratches his scalp, and then… he shrugs. “Maybe?” he says, “your weapon has to be demon-cursed or angel-blessed for it to work, and I don’t know a lot of places that do that these days.” he looks at Shiro curiously, eyeing him up and down, and his skin crawls from the scrutiny that Keith is giving him. “You could probably be trained how to use devil arms,” his eyes fall on Shiro’s bandaged hand, “especially with –”

“Do you think the demons at the shrine will be hard to kill?” Shiro interjects hastily, and Keith raises an eyebrow at the rather abrupt change of topics. It isn’t like he is being subtle about it, but he readily ignores the way Keith is staring at him – or more specifically, his arm – and just quickens his steps a bit. Keith has to take longer strides to keep up with him, which _almost_ makes him feel guilty. “I’ve just – never really… dealt with demons? Not that I think a lot of people have.” a pause. “Except for you.”

“But I’m not human.” Keith points out to him, almost bored, but at least he isn’t looking at Shiro’s arm anymore. He is just staring straight ahead as they get closer and closer to the shrines, and it takes him a long, _long_ time before he answers Shiro. He isn’t going to say anything to the half-demon’s face, but the wait is a bit much. “No demon’s really that difficult to deal with, just annoying when they come in swarms.”

He doesn’t have anything to say to that, so he just leads Keith even though the hunter can clearly see their destination, and he exhales softly and wrings his hands together. There is stillness around them with few people outside at this time of day, and Shiro likes to think that it is because of the fact that there is still some fear since the announcement and realization that demons exist.

The shrine is thankfully empty when Keith and Shiro arrive there, and he watches with some confusion as the hunter heads directly in the centre of the collection of shrines, stands in front of Yasaka Shrine, and places his hands on his hips while he looks around. He almost wants to task what Keith is doing, but he bites down on his tongue and just stands to the side while the hunter surveys the area. He drums his fingers on his hips while he turns in place, taking his surroundings in, and Shiro feels like he is missing some sort of joke right now.

“You guys care about your shrines a lot, right?” Keith asks conversationally, and Shiro isn’t sure what kind of look he gives him but that makes the hunter snort, “okay, okay, stop looking at me like I killed your dog – ” the sound that Shiro lets out is odd even to his own ears, and Keith looks at him blankly, almost staring through him, then he clears his throat, “I’ll try and be careful about property damage. No promises.”

He walks away from the centre finally and goes through the small shrines, passing by them with his hands being shoved into his pant’s pockets, barely looking at the ones he pass by before he comes to a stop. He turns… and then slams his fist into the stone foundation of the shrine. “Keith! What the – ” he doesn’t get to finish his exclamation as something screeches, the voice a shrill, inhuman thing that makes Shiro slams his hands onto his ears.

A cacophony of screeches surrounds them, his hands almost not enough to block out the terrible noise, and it is when he finally gathers himself up again that he realizes what it is that has been causing that horrifically high-pitched sound. Odd, twisted creatures crawl out from behind each of the shrines, their face made up of an endlessly-long mouth and several, bulging eyeballs. Their long bodies drag across the shrines, making them look like centipedes as crawling across the floor, and Shiro can only stare at the hideous, insectoid creatures.

Keith stands there, absolutely relaxed, with one hand still being stuffed inside of his pocket and the other arm just hanging limply by his side, head tilting to the side and eyes half-lidded. “Oh,” he says, disinterested, “it’s you guys. Thought you got wiped out?” he clicks his tongue, walking slowly to the side while the demons circle around him.

There is a hot minute of nothing happening, of Shiro’s heartbeat roaring in his ears, and he blinks once.

Everything happens all at once.

With more shrill shrieking, the demons all converge onto Keith, pouncing onto him with killer intent, and Shiro can only watch as the hunter doesn’t even seem all that bothered by the acid being drooled from the insectoid demons trying to tear him apart. He catches a glimpse of a silver underneath the multitudes of demons huddling around Keith, hears the loud _bang_ of a gun, and the creature is flinching in surprise.

Keith’s movements are _insanely_ quick – one second he has shot a demon, the next he is kicking them off of him, fists slamming into some of the ones that have landed nearby and Shiro’s face goes green when he sees his hand crush their skulls and get splashed with viscous, greenish-yellow slime.

He kicks the body away then grabs at the hilt of his sword, holds it with both hands, then charges to the one farthest away from him and Shiro can’t bring himself to focus on the action that is going on around him. The corpse of the creature is still there, not having dissipated into the air [just yet], and the only thing running through his head is _Keith’s fist literally just broke through its skull. He punched it so hard its skull was crushed apart. Holy shit._

Greenish-yellow slime pools around the creature’s twitching body and Shiro’s bandaged hand comes up to slap onto his mouth, his eyes watering as his stomach tightens and lurch, twisting up, and he has to turn around and stare at anything else but the scene going on behind him to avoid vomiting last night’s soup and the acid in his belly.

Breathing – he just needs to focus on his breathing. In and out, just count them; he closes his eyes and thinks about the way it feels to breathe, focuses on the chill in his nostrils, how it burns if he breathes too intensely, and tries to calm himself down. He focuses on the way his chest raises up and down, his stomach extending with each inhale and shrinking with the exhales.

Nausea ebbing, he opens his eyes and looks up at the early morning sky, and it is when he cannot hear anything going on behind him anymore that he takes a chance to face Keith again –

And he yells when he is face to face with Keith, arms flailing as he falls backwards, and the hunter is grabbing onto his elbow and holding him in that angled position, keeping him from falling on his ass like a klutz. “Don’t do – did you get taller?” Shiro asks when Keith helps him stand upright again, hands instinctively settling on the hunter to balance himself a little, and he realizes that he is looking up at Keith now, and the hunter looks sheepish about it.

Shiro stares at him a bit longer – takes in his white hair, the near transparently clear colour of his irises, and at the fact that he now has matching scars on his face and a single, horizontal scar on his throat. He can see more peeking underneath Keith’s clothes, sees what he thinks is a rather large burn scar hidden away, and when he looks further down he realizes that his hands are on Keith’s waist.

“Oh! Sorry! _Sorry!_ ” he pushes himself away, letting go of his waist immediately, and he coughs into his fist, trying to ignore the fact that he can feel his face heat up. “I wasn’t – um.” he rubs at the scar on his nose, trying to focus on that for a bit instead of the fact that he has been holding  onto Keith for longer than what is appropriate. Facing Keith again has him back to being short and black-haired, the scars on his body reduced back to being the lone one on his face, and he looks over his shoulder to look at the shrine.

There is no evidence that a fight has gone on, save for perhaps some of the scratch marks onto the floor thanks to Keith’s sword, and he lets out a soft huh. “I should pay you now, right?” Shiro asks, and he pats at his pants only to realize that these don’t have pockets and that he doesn’t have his wallet with him. “I’m – I left my wallet at home,” he says helplessly, “I have the money to pay you, but we have to go back, and – ”

“Can you actually afford to pay me?” Keith asks sharply, and Shiro opens his mouth yet no words can come out. “The flight here wasn’t cheap, especially on short notice, and killing demons ain’t cheap. Are you sure you can actually afford me? Have you even considered that?” oh. He hasn’t thought about the plane tickets. Oh, that – that really must have cost a lot, and killing demons? He hasn’t…

He pales. Keith… _laughs._ “You can’t afford me,” is what Keith says, and Shiro’s heart constricts in his chest; is he going to die? “Hey, calm down. Don’t look so scared.” he takes a few confident steps up towards Shiro, a lopsided smirk on his face, and he flicks his forehead. “I’ve never eaten Japanese food before – at least, not good ones. The ones around _Devil May Cry_ are kind of shit.”

“… are you asking me to treat you to dinner?” Shiro asks in disbelief, and Keith rubs at his nose. When he doesn’t say anything else, Shiro almost sputters in surprise. “I – sure! I mean… yeah? I can take you to… I can take you to some restaurants around here, I’m friends with some of the – the older owners.” embarrassment burns the tips of his ears over how he is stuttering, and the demon hunter tilts his head while Shiro tries to gather himself. “So… when are you going to go back to Italy?”

Keith gives him a toothy smile, showing off extremely sharp canines, and he looks menacingly happy that way. He wonders how it is possible to be able to pull off such an oxymoron. “Don’t worry about it,” Keith says, “I’ll be leaving when I want to. You just worry about finding me a good place to eat.”

“What about a place to say?” wow, Shiro, just keep talking, why don’t you? “You can stay at my house! I have a guestroom you can stay at, I just need to clean it up, but if you can sleep in my bed instead if you find the bed uncomfortable there – I haven’t touched the guestroom, and I don’t have many guests –”

“Sure, I’ll stay over.” Keith says, saving Shiro from the disaster that is himself. “What’s that fish-cake thing that I’ve seen some people eat? You think we can find any stands selling them nearby?”

“Taiyaki? You want to try out _taiyaki_ first?” at Keith’s excited, glinting eyes, with his grin melting down into a curious smile, Shiro has to bite back a laugh. “Yeah, we can try out taiyaki when we get out into the city at a good, busy time.” he runs his hand through his hair, unable to fight back the smile breaking out on his face. “Let me go back home and change, because it’s starting to get too cold for me.

“And… Keith?” the demon hunter looks at him curiously, his face evening out and the smile gone, the excited glint having faded from his eyes, and he just looks indifferent now. “Thanks for letting me pay you back this way. I don’t think I could have… yeah.”

Keith shrugs, but he is smiling now.

It makes Shiro wonder how long the hunter is planning to stay, and he hopes that he stays for at least a week – just so that he can get to know Keith a tiny bit more, maybe make a long-distance friend or something like that. And to pay him back, of course.

Nothing more.

[Maybe.]

**Author's Note:**

> Where to find me:
> 
> [Tumblr.](https://transistories.tumblr.com/) | [ Pillowfort. ](https://www.pillowfort.io/transistor) | [ Twitter.](https://twitter.com/Transistors12) Just as a note, I recently remade my twitter so it is... exceptionally empty, and I don't know what to tweet on it.


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